


Necessity

by kneesspaghetti



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hanzo attempting teamwork, Humor, Romance, Unnamed OC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7651006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kneesspaghetti/pseuds/kneesspaghetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'll be lucky if she gets through this mission without embarassing herself to death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zealkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zealkin/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Jae!!! :3 I hope you enjoy. I didn't want to explicitly name any characters, so I just kind of left it ambiguous. But otherwise *wiggles eyebrows* please let me know what you think.

The clatter of cutlery on plates and boisterous laughter fades into the distance as she wanders away from the dinner party, heels clicking rhythmically against the wooden dock. Her dress ruffles about her ankles as a gentle breeze brushes past and catches stray pieces of her hair. She brushes them back as she squints into the distance, watching the shadowy shapes of boats floating along the canal, silhouetted by lights from the shore. She breathes in the faint smell of the sea, leaning against a stack of crates, far away from the bustling event she’s supposed to be attending. Ah, whatever. They’ll last a few minutes without her. 

She expels a heavy sigh, seeming to deflate as the air leaves her lungs. The pounding in her head is very noticeable now that she’s away from the music and insufferable political discussions. Yes, it’s important that Overwatch keeps tabs on the suspected Talon supporters attending this banquet, but is it truly necessary to mingle with them, as well? If she has to listen to one more person talk about the national deficit she’s going to scream. A droplet of condensation slides down her champagne glass and across her knuckles. She watches it drip to the floor – startling at the sight of a pair of polished dress shoes standing beside her.

Her hand flies to her chest, eyes snapping up to meet his. “ _Jesus,_ Hanzo. You scared the hell out of me.”

“You shouldn’t let your guard down,” he reprimands, unapologetic for purposefully sneaking up on her. “We’re on a mission.”

She scoffs, taking a sip. “Hardly. I haven’t heard a peep about Talon all night.”

The former assassin reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket – she tries too staunchly ignore how good he looks in formal wear – and deftly removes a gilded notecard, proffering it to her. She takes the clearly expensive paper from him curiously and reads the message printed in a fine, golden script. _‘Our friends are invited to gather at midnight in boardroom 303 of the Plaza Hotel.’_

“You rely too much on word of mouth,” is all he says, back to her as he examines the water. 

Annoyed at his success, she makes a face at his back. It’s not as if she’s had years of ninja training to sharpen her senses or anything. Ass. Regardless, they’re supposed to be a team, no matter how arrogant he acts. “So, how are we going to approach this?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, then turns to regard her with an eyebrow raised. “What do you suggest?”

Her eyes practically pop out of her skull. Mr. My-Way-or-the-Highway is asking for opinions? She sets down her glass, deciding that she’s had enough to drink. “You’re asking me what I think? Like actually?”

Hanzo rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he glances off to the side. “I have become aware that I am not being as…receptive to your thoughts as I should be.”

Wow, okay, she’s definitely off her rocker. “I’m sorry, what?”

He sighs deeply and finally meets her eye-to-eye. His expression is conflicted, brow knit together and a small, self-conscious grimace on his face. “I confess that I can be quite controlling in such situations. To better our teamwork, I’m asking for your opinion on how you want to proceed from here.”

Her jaw is on the ground at this point, eyebrows having already rocketed off to space. “Um, okay, well…obviously we need to be there for this meeting.” Hanzo nods wordlessly and she can imagine he’s biting back a sarcastic remark. “I can go in pretending to be a new sponsor, and you can hide out nearby just in case things go south.”

“I hope you are not intending them to,” he says offhandedly, peering over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she drawls, giving him a look, “because I want to be targeted by a bunch of snobby Talon a- _what are you doing?!”_

The last half of her sentence is released in a shocked whisper-yell as he very suddenly invades her personal space. One of his hands presses against the wood next to her head and he leans in as close as he can without actually touching her. It’s now very hard to ignore his attractiveness when he’s this close, cologne tickling her senses and the heat of his body shortening her breath. Although he’s but a hairsbreadth from – well, _you know_ – his eyes are elsewhere, glaring to the side.

She follows his gaze, alighting on a server having wandered out for a smoke. Deciding she might as well play along – and knowing that she might never get this chance again – she reaches up and places a slightly trembling hand on his neck. His eyes drop to hers and she can feel heat gathering in her cheeks, though she pretends not to notice. She pulls him closer, telling herself that it makes the act more convincing, telling herself that his other hand ghosting over her hip is a necessity, that the way his breath hitches is because he’s nervous. That the way he watches her lips pull into a half-smile is a trick of the light.

Soon, the waiter catches sight of them and jerks to a stop, turning on his heel and heading the other way, muttering something about politicians and affairs. But Hanzo doesn’t seem to notice the man’s absence. Or anything really. She searches his face for answers, only finding an unreadable expression.

She repeats her earlier question, although with a much different meaning this time. “What are you doing?” she whispers.

Hanzo’s mouth opens minutely, brow falling low over his eyes. “I….” And then, as if woken from a dream, he steps away, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. She tries her best not to look to disappointed. “…the meeting is going to start soon.”

If by “soon” he means “in an hour.” She pats her hair back in place, gathering her wits about her once again. “Yeah…of course.” 

“I’ll leave early. Find a good position to oversee the proceedings.” 

With an awkward nod and cringe-worthy exchange of goodbyes, he leaves, footfalls soundless as he rejoins the party. She spends the next few minutes fighting the urge to toss her idiotic self into the canal, grabbing her glass and downing the rest of the champagne in one gulp. She’s going to need all the courage she can get to finish this mission with her sanity in tact. 

She hesitantly heads back to the conglomeration of glitterati, wondering how exactly it’s necessary to have feelings for such a stubborn man.


End file.
